fortunes of others, but when others fight against great odds and merely escape misforture by a hair’s breadth, somehow we feel unsatisfied, as if their escape had in some slight degree caused us disappointment. If we exaggerate these feelings, it seems that there is some dosire in all of us to push such people right back into the midst of misfortune again. At the same time, deep in our hearts, we feel some sympathy for their escape.
The Naigu, though he did not know the reason, felt somewhat troubled at the perception which enabled him vaguely to see “the egoism of the observers,” which showed itself amongst the clergy and laity of Ikeno-o. As time went by, he became still more distressed. When anyone asked him a question a second time, he got angry and scolded them severely. Eventually he became so unkind and irritable that the disciple who had operated on his nose began to talk about him rather harshly behind his back. He even remarked that the Naigu would soon be committing “hokendon” (a self-inflicted punishment to one who has suffered an indignity).
The person who offended the Naigu most of all was that young and mischievous chudoji. One day, hearing the loud barking of a dog, the Naigu wandered out of the temple. There he found the boy rushing about and cutting the air rapidly with a two-foot wooden board. He was chasing a longehaired dog, and as he did so, he shouted at the top of his voice, “Look out for your precious nose, or I might beat it flat!” The Naigu was very angry, and snatching the piece of
